Viva La Vida
by IceonFire7
Summary: OK, so this is a little one-shot, kind of like a lost scene from the very beginning of S2. This is all from Bass's point of view. And Bass swears quite a bit in this one. And sings...


**OK, so this is a little one-shot, kind of like a lost scene. And it's a song fic that is a bit different from the traditional kind. It's set at the beginning of S2, in my mind immediately before Charlie comes to New Vegas and finds Bass fighting there. Let's say it's in my Revolution fantasy verse with some of my other stories. This is all from Bass's point of view. And, be forewarned, Bass swears quite a bit in this one. And sings...**

**And thanks Lemon, your idea of the italics was right.**

**The tune is Viva La Vida by Coldplay. **

**I still don't own anything from Revolution. Or Coldplay. And I think I loaned David Lyons to wildirish, but I haven't gotten him back yet. wildirish, I'm going to need him back. LemonSupreme and driver picks the music will probably want a turn...LOL**

* * *

It was slowly driving him mad. Like a thousand tiny needles poking at his brain all at the same time. And digging, constantly digging in his skull as it looped over and over again.

Why couldn't he get this damn song out of his head?

This sort of thing used to happen a lot more before the Blackout, when songs would play on the radio and then get stuck in his mind. But since the Blackout, not so much. Of course, he could no longer play the hell out of the song until he got it out of his system either. Man, it was just so annoying. And, damn it, had truer lyrics ever been written for any one human being.

"_I used to rule the world. Seas would rise when I gave the word_," Monroe sang under his breath. He was living in a shitty little trailer in New Vegas, and it needed cleaned in the worst way. And while he might have deserved to live in squalor, he was too much of a Marine at heart. He needed things to be tidy. Plus, he'd spent years living in luxury in Philadelphia. Philly, he really didn't want to think about that. "_Now in the morning I sleep alone. Sweep the streets I used to own_."

So here he was, cleaning his little shithole and singing while doing it. God, what a clichéd mess he'd become. "_I used to roll the dice. Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes_."

And wasn't that the truth. He'd ruled what certainly felt like the world. And he'd owned those streets in Philly. And now he was sweeping out the dump that he called home. And fear, how many men had he put the fear of God into...

Son of a bitch. The song still niggled. He gave up on trying to ignore it. Okay, get it out, asshole. "_Listen as the crowd would sing. Now the old king is dead, long live the king. One minute I held the key, next the walls were closed on me_."

He'd held the key to everything. Power, land, electricity. And it had all fallen apart in the blink of an eye. Well, in the push of a button really. He couldn't be sure, but he'd bet his life that Randall Flynn had pushed that damn thing. "_And I discovered that my castles stand upon pillars of salt, pillars of sand_."

Two entire cities had crumbled because of his greed. He was such a jackass.

"_I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing. Roman Cavalry choirs are singing. Be my mirror, my sword and shield. My missionaries in a foreign field_," he sang, still low. Didn't need anyone to hear the prize bare-knuckle boxer Jimmy King sing, for God's sake. Or Sebastian fucking Monroe, former President of the Monroe Republic, for that matter. "_For some reason I can't explain, once you go there was never, never an honest word. And that was when I ruled the world_."

Once you go...yeah, Miles had left. After Miles was gone, nothing in the Republic was ever the same. And now, his best friend, his brother, didn't want anything to do with him. He supposed he should be happy Miles didn't just kill him. No, instead, Miles had used him to draw his militia troops away from the Tower's entrance. And that was another thing he'd lost. The entire fucking militia.

Oh, this son of a bitching song.

"_It was the wicked and wild wind blew down the doors to let me in. Shattered windows and the sound of drums. People couldn't believe what I'd become_." Imagine if the people he'd ruled over could see him now. Or the rebels that wanted him dead. How far the mighty have fallen.

"_Revolutionaries wait for my head on a silver plate_." Wasn't that the truth. They all wanted him dead. Even his own men, apparently. And Neville. And Flynn. And Rachel. Charlie...Charlotte. He'd saved her life; he wondered now where she was, if she was all right. Well, she wanted him dead, too, so what did it matter?

Wiping off his counter top, he caught a glimpse of his burnt off tattoo. He hadn't gotten rid of it just to conceal his identity, although that was necessary. After those bombs dropped, he hadn't wanted a reminder of how much of an epic failure he really was. Or how many of his own people he'd gotten killed.

That tattoo had gone from a symbol of his childhood friendship with Miles, to the emblem of their whole Republic. And now it meant absolutely nothing. "_Just a puppet on a lonely string. Oh, who would ever wanna be king?_"

Why wouldn't this fucking song leave him alone?

He hadn't even been a giant fan of the band, but he had loved the hell out of the song. Of course he hadn't realized how prophetic the words would become. "_I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing. Roman Cavalry choirs are singing. Be my mirror, my sword and shield. My missionaries in a foreign field_."

Miles. Miles had been his general, his sword and shield...his brother. He had no one now; not one soul who cared if he lived or died. Christ, how had it come to this? How had he let it come to this? "_For some reason I can't explain, I know Saint Peter won't call my name. Never an honest word. But that was when I ruled the world_."

Was this to be the rest of his existence? Living in a rat hole, fighting endlessly into the night. Whores and liquor. Well, he did have Duncan. She was a decent distraction. And he liked her.

But this hadn't been the way he envisioned his life. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Miles was supposed to be by his side. A woman that he loved, that loved him back, a soul-mate, was supposed to be his wife. And Duncan, she just wasn't it. Not that she would really want to be. There was no such thing as monogamy in their relationship. If it could even be called that.

Oh, and kids. He'd so wanted to have kids. He'd wanted a family. And truthfully, that was all that he'd ever really cared about.

"_I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing. Roman Cavalry choirs are singing._" He was still singing. And cleaning up. This was fucking ridiculous. "_Be my mirror, my sword and shield. My missionaries in a foreign field_."

How long could he remain in New Vegas? He was getting itchy, and he knew what that meant. It was already time to get the hell out. He needed something new and exciting in his life. He needed something...unexpected. But he had this stupid ass fight tonight. And Duncan was out of town, so he'd probably just pick up a woman after. Yeah, she'd be a whore, but he really never paid for it anyway. Maybe he'd pick a blonde; he was in a blonde sort of mood.

Who the hell was he kidding? What would ever be new and exciting here? "_For some reason I can't explain, I know Saint Peter won't call my name_."

Saint Peter...what a joke. If there was a heaven, he was never going to see it. He had a feeling there was a special place in hell reserved for men like him. Jesus, what if he had to spend eternity with all the other asshole dictators that had gone before him?

There was nothing he could do to make up for all the shit he'd done. But, God help him, he would try if he could. He'd bring back Ben, and Danny, and Jeremy, and countless others that were dead because of him. No one would ever believe that, but he really would. Damn it, he was getting soft.

But he just wanted his fucking family back.

And for this song to leave him be.

"_Never an honest word. But that was when I ruled the world..._" 

* * *

Like Bass in the story, I'm not a big Coldplay fan. Except for this song, which I **love**. But listening to it a week or two ago, I suddenly went, jeez, these lyrics fit Bass perfectly. And then this little story wouldn't leave me alone until it was written.

**"Viva La Vida"**  
I used to rule the world  
Seas would rise when I gave the word  
Now in the morning I sleep alone  
Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice  
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes  
Listen as the crowd would sing  
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key  
Next the walls were closed on me  
And I discovered that my castles stand  
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing  
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing  
Be my mirror, my sword and shield  
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain  
Once you go there was never  
Never an honest word  
And that was when I ruled the world

It was the wicked and wild wind  
Blew down the doors to let me in  
Shattered windows and the sound of drums  
People couldn't believe what I'd become

Revolutionaries wait  
For my head on a silver plate  
Just a puppet on a lonely string  
Oh, who would ever wanna be king?

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing  
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing  
Be my mirror, my sword and shield  
My missionaries in a foreign field  
For some reason I can't explain  
I know Saint Peter won't call my name  
Never an honest word  
But that was when I ruled the world

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing  
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing  
Be my mirror, my sword and shield  
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain  
I know Saint Peter won't call my name  
Never an honest word  
But that was when I ruled the world


End file.
